In school on Monday morning Mr. Cray, to Michael’s regret, did not allude to the command that his class should read ‘In a Garden.’ Michael was desperately anxious at once to tell him how much he had loved the poem and to remind him of the real title, ‘A Forsaken Garden.’ At last he could bear it no longer and went up flushed with enthusiasm to Mr. Cray’s desk, nominally to enquire into an alleged mistake in his Latin Prose, but actually to inform Mr. Cray of his delight in Swinburne. When the grammatical blunder had been discussed, Michael said with as much nonchalance as he could assume:
“I read that poem, sir. I think it’s ripping.”
“What poem?” repeated Mr. Cray vaguely. “Oh, yes, ‘Enoch Arden.’”
“‘Enoch Arden,’” stammered Michael. “I thought you said ‘In a Garden.’ I read ‘A Forsaken Garden’ by Swinburne.”
Mr. Cray put on his most patronizing manner.
“My poor Fane, have you never heard of Enoch Arden? Perhaps you’ve never even heard of Tennyson?”
“But Swinburne’s good, isn’t he, sir?”
“Swinburne is very well,” said Mr. Cray. “Oh, yes, Swinburne will do, if you like rose-jam. But I don’t recommend Swinburne for you, Fane.”
Then Mr. Cray addressed his class:
“Did you all read ‘Enoch Arden’?”